I DON'T NEED THIS ANYMORE

I Love You

For a couple of winters, I lived aboard a 38’ sailboat. I could find anything in the dark. It was freedom. “Things” were limited. Books were read and exchanged with other sailors. When people came aboard to share a meal, they brought their own plate, cup and utensils. I remember a clear night sailing through shipping channels under the stars. How small I felt. How wide the water. Once, I was hoisted to the top of the mast, to change a light bulb. Makes me dizzy thinking about it now.

There’s a metal fish on my desk, once attached to a serving tray bought at a second-hand shop. I like its shape and puzzled look. It makes me smile.

How little we need. How much I have. 73 years of things. Probably not that long. I don’t have things from when I was a baby, a five-year old, a ten-year old. I have the Bible given me when I was 9, a necklace mom gave me one Easter, a square red silk scarf I used as a doll blanket, hair ribbons my brother gave me, mom’s crystal glassware that I never use. Thread, fabric, paints, papers, printer, linens, dishes, silverware, knives, pretty things, impractical things. Unopened mystery boxes that came with us from Oklahoma. Maybe my missing desk clock is in one of them and my favorite cookbook.

This is my time for sifting through memories, emptying drawers, closets, boxes, and bins. My time to say, “I don’t need this anymore.”

ART: LJ Austin “Starting Point” 2022